What kind of creative power was generated by the writers on this fiasco when they came up with this gem of a plot: "evil make-up threatens world"? Hell, why not have Catwoman battle an invasion of tampon creatures from outer space so we can completely eliminate the possibility of a female lead in a superhero film for the next 50 years?
No longer do I simply bristle when I see that the director of the movie I'm watching has only one name; now I get physically sick. I mean, it's one thing if you're Cher or Madonna or Sting and you've already established that the sizes of your ego and your wallet are comparable, but just exactly how much pretension must you possess to cite yourself as "Pitof" on the credits of your first major feature film? Either this guy has balls made of solid gold or he's teetering on the precipice of insanity.
"Pitof" the director has so little talent that watching "Catwoman" is almost worse than watching "Tom Arnold: The Musical." Even Martin Scorsese would be hard-pressed to do anything with a script so incompetent it wouldn't pass muster in one of those community college creative writing programs taught by failed screenwriters. At one point, she goes to the mysterious cat lady (Frances Conroy) to get things explained to her after she's died, come back to life, and can suddenly dunk a basketball and land on her feet after falling from great heights. The cat lady's wisdom? "Accept it, child. You spent a lifetime caged." While we're hair-balling that line, the cat lady gives her a catnip ball and we watch what could quite conceivably be the most embarrassing bit of acting from an Oscar winner in the history of cinema.
Ignoring the fact that Catwoman (Halle Berry) is an antagonist for Batman and that her real name is Selina Kyle and not Patience Phillips, what kind of creative power was generated by the writers on this fiasco when they came up with this gem of a plot: "evil make-up threatens world"? Hell, why not have Catwoman battle an invasion of tampon creatures from outer space so we can completely eliminate the possibility of a female lead in a superhero film for the next 50 years?
Catwoman's love interest in this film is Tom Lone (Benjamin Bratt), whose last name is apparently a metaphor for the number of people who are going to be in the theater after about a week. Tom's big life mystery is figuring out Catwoman's identity. Now, you'd think that the fact that the new love of his life can climb walls might clue him into the fact that she's freaky in a bad way, but dim Tom remains aloof and detached from the possibility in a way that looks like Benjamin Bratt is considering the fact that he may never be in another movie, so you know, hang on.
Catwoman's evil opposition in this film is Sharon Stone. There's so much airbrushing of Stone's face in the movie that I actually left the theater to tell the manager that the film was out of focus. I just wish I could airbrush the memory of this film from my mind forever.
To spread the word about this Catwoman review on Twitter.To get instant updates of Mr. Cranky reviews, subscribe to our RSS feed.